


Namimori

by takoyaki (tamagoyaki)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15978725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamagoyaki/pseuds/takoyaki
Summary: Namimori dies in the same moment Sawada Tsunayoshi is born.Alternatively,Tsuna is Namimori.And that has been the same ever since he was born.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's another Tsuna/Kyoya work in KHR by the same name. Believe it or not, it's a coincidence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namimori and Sawada Tsunayoshi.

I.

Namimori dies in the moment Sawada Tsunayoshi is born.

Brown eyes snap wide open. Lost in the sensations and blurry world that fills his eyes, Tsuna remembers everything in that instance.

Towns are not countries, just the same way countries will never be towns. But for all that the personifications of town have been – _human, mortal, living and dying and reintegrating –_ towns are able to pass on the memories of their history to the next incarnation. Tsuna is newborn, and Tsuna was an old man. Tsuna was a girl who trot down the river bay, singing happy songs to fluttering birds; Tsuna was a sick man, whose ailment was cursed by dying crops; Tsuna was a young man who encountered a man of Italian descendance with hair as gold as wheat – _and more._ Tsuna was an old man who smiled at the bumbling grandchildren dancing around. Tsuna was a child who laughed and spread arms wide, welcoming the strange and not-too normal Italians into his humble abode.

Tsuna _is_ Namimori.

And that has been the same ever since he was born.

.

II.

Tsuna is not sad when his father leaves for Italy.

On the contrary, it seems only natural for Italy’s child to return home.

Still, Sawada Nana is his, and Tsuna is disheartened to see her in pieces.

That’s why, from time to time, when Nana is out shopping with him in tow, Tsuna does his best as his months-old self to flash a sloppy smile around his pacifier at the kinder residents of the town. He sees their life history at a glance. _Asahi Sakura, a nursery teacher who always stays up to the wee hours of the night waiting for a late parent, loving every child like her own; Isogai Kazuma, who loves and loves and loves but is never able to find time for himself; Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, a single-parent who lives to date in spite of his harsh life for the sake of his child—_

“Guwuah!” Tsuna squeals, waving a chubby hand at his resident.

“T-Tsu-kun-?” Mama’s hand shoots to him, steadying him on her back. Her words are laced with fondness, even as tired as she is. “Don’t move around so much, geez—” She chuckles.

“My, what an adorable child you have there, dearie.” An old lady smiles where she had been picking her vegetables. _Kanzaki Michiko, retired, with five grandchildren of her own—_

“Heheh. Thank you.” Nana places a hand, abashed on her cheek. “The first few months have been hard to handle, but Tsu-kun makes it all worth it.”

Tsuna croons into his mother’s ears, earning another bubbling giggle.

“What a loving pair you are~” Michiko offers a wrinkly smile. “Let’s see here… If you don’t mind this old lady being nosy, there’s a couple of veggies here that I know would be good for kids at this little one’s age. If you like, this old lady could share a couple of my recipes...”

“Eh? Really? Please do share a few of them with me!” Nana doesn’t pass on the opportunity.

It’s in this way that Tsuna helps with whatever he can in his limits as Namimori Personification in the first few years of his life. Being a single-parent is tough afterall, and Nana needs all the friends she can get.

.

III.

“Konnichiwa, my child,” Smiles Japan down at him whilst Nana is busying herself associating with the local mothers’ association.

The image of a stranger in his early twenties – clad in fashionable oversized shirt, neat ironed trousers, and a matcha green shawl wrapped over his shoulders – near one of the children he’s nowhere dressed down enough to have should be shocking enough. But nobody takes note of them, just the way Tsuna wants it. Just the way Japan desires it.

“Ah-pah!” Tsuna squeals, eyes curving in pleasure as he lifts and drops his hands excitedly.

Japan’s smile is gentle, pleasant, as he drops down on his knees to be on more level height with him.

“I take it that you are happy in your current life?” Japan questions with eyes brimming with fondness. Tsuna cocks his head, _‘Why wouldn’t I be?’_ And Japan chuckles anew. “I’ve come to inform you that I’ve laid to rest the body of your predecessor – of Maehara Takuya-kun.” Japan averts his gaze for an instance, both out of instinctive habit and politeness, to shield his pain from Tsuna’s bright-eyed gaze. “Please tell my child in heaven to rest in peace, knowing he’d rejoin this land by my side.”

Tsuna slowly frowns. Tsuna falls just as he crawls forward to reach for Japan’s hands, chin hitting the pavement on the side of the sandbox painfully.

He wails, loud and dishevelled, causing the melancholic Japan to fuss and hover.

“Erm…ermm………” Japan’s wide eyes dodge to his citizens who are now turning towards them. He squeezes his eyes shut and does the one thing the mothers across the nation do. “Ittai, Ittai, fly away~!” He rubs the top of his child’s head gently.

The mothers look away, thinking him to be another young father wedded too early.

Tsuna sniffles under the nervous touch and giggles, looking up at the befuddled expression of his country.

“You town personifications are always such a handful, aren’t you?” Japan sighs, tired but fond as he pats the fluffy brown locks gently.

 _‘We are, but then again, so are you.’_ Tsuna thinks but doesn’t say, leaning into Japan’s touch. It feels just like how his predecessor, Takuya, remembers it. Countries are immortal, and countries can befriend each other. But at the same time, nothing’s everlasting between countries due to ever changing political climates. ( _“That’s why,” Takuya said to him in another moment of peace. “We’ve got to be there for our countries as towns, because we’re all they have.”_ )

Tsuna will work hard to be a good family to Japan.

.

IV.

Namimori doesn’t let him leave, sweet as every one of his predecessors are.

“Gyappu!”

Tiny hands cling on firmly to the edge of his trousers. Japan has neither the heart nor the will to shake his leg out of his dear child’s grasp. Namimori has always been special in that way, a town more deep-rooted in the heart of Japan than everyone knows. (With perhaps, the exception of a few underground leaders.) Still, Japan attempts to struggle as is only fit, steps faltering to lower himself to his knee and place a too-hesitant hand on soft locks.

Namimori peers at him with the same bright eyes of Takuya.

“Namimori-kun,” Japan starts softly. “This cannot persist.”

Namimori remains peering at him with unrelenting eyes.

“Muhoan!” An attempt to say his name.

In his eyes, Japan sees days of the past, holding young Takahashi Juri’s hand as she balances herself on uneven rock fragments, crossing a river; sinking deep into a cushion as Kasa Akifumi at age sixty knits thick brows and fans the smoking fish he caught for this occasion; admiring the fireworks which spark in dark eyes when Maehara Takuya rises from his bow before his restaurant and recognizes him. Bright, fleeting laughter in every idyllic moment of the day he spends in Namimori.

“Muhoan.” Sawada Tsunayoshi – much to his dread – _pouts._ And that’s about as much as Japan can take.

“Namimori-kun,” He sighs. Namimori’s face brightens into a cherub smile. “You are impossible to reason with.” He sighs again, sitting down by the edge of the sand box.

“Guahaha!” Namimori claps his hands in jubilance.

Japan smiles and resigns himself to another lifetime spent having his heart lifted and dropped by another version of Namimori. He reaches forward and picks up the buckets.

“Please pardon my intrusion in your work then.” It slips his mouth out of habit. He makes up for the too-polite words with a slanted line of his mouth. “What do you suggest we make today?”

The town personification focuses hard on conveying it with his eyes.

“Osaka Castle?” Japan frowns, perturbed. “How about a different location? You’ve had me making that in every one of your incarnation—”

Namimori quivers his lower lip.

“—I understand! I shall get to work at once!” Japan couldn’t get his hands on the buckets fast enough.

Namimori holds onto his pants’ leg tightly till the sun sets and his mother comes. Mid-sip through another cup of jasmine green tea, Japan wonders how it’s so easy for him to be roped into Namimori’s pace every time.

Stilling as Namimori giggles and chases his mother’s apron strings to elicit a gentle laugh from her, the answer surfaces through decades of memories like before. (It’s hard to remember when time is distorted. It’s hard to forget, when Namimori is reborn every time.)

Japan sighs as he sits down his tea, chest warm with respite from the suffocating pace of his citizens. He catches Namimori when he crawls up to him and watches with widening eyes when he begins to crawl up his knees, standing for the first time to his tearing mother’s standing ovation. And Japan can’t resist parting his lips, speechless, because Namimori chose that moment when he’s there to show this to him.

(Namimori is to Japan what sunflowers are to Russia – a warm, bright home to return to.)

Japan makes a note to visit more.

.

V.

There is an angel in Isogai Kazuma’s life going by the name of Sawada Tsunayoshi.

Because each time he’s rejected or broken up with, the baby on the other side of the fence never fails to listen to Kazuma ramble about the unfairness of his life.

“—She said that I’m just not good enough for her.” Kazuma laments as he sits, knees pulled to his chest. Tsunayoshi nods sympathetically on the other side of the broken fence. Kazuma sniffles, lowering his head. “I don’t get it… Where did I go wrong? Even though I posted my genuine credentials when I was online dating… What’s so bad about me that she didn’t find my degree enough?” He sobs tearlessly into his knees. All his tear ducts have been emptied the night before.

“Guwah…muah…!” Tsunayoshi reaches a tiny stout hand through the broken section of the fence, hoping to pat him.

Kazuma watches him flail, trying his best to not step out of the lawn like the kind lady next door told him not to, and Kazuma sadly extends one hand of his through the bushes to the boy.

The little one-year-old – two? Kazuma rarely pays attention – pats his knuckles comfortingly.

“…I’m the worst…” He grits out, burying his face into his knees. “To need a kid like you of all things to pity me… I’m the absolute worst…!” He bemoans into his knees.

Tsunayoshi’s light pat on his hand falters.

“Oh? Tsu-kun? Is someone there?” The kind lady next door could be heard.

Kazuma flinches, withdrawing his hand as if burnt.

“Mama!” Calls out the boy.

“Oh, my?” The bushes are parted. He’s got to run. He’d be taken as a pervert if he doesn’t!

B…But…! His knees are too weak to stand…!

“Are you okay, Isogai-san?” Concerned eyes bear down at him. Kazuma shakily opens his eyes, stunned that she’s not screaming at him. “Creep” is something he’s all too used to hearing from girls. Only half ever make it through the first date without one-upping him.

Sawada Nana leans down towards him, an apologetic smile on her face.

Kazuma flinches when she kneels down before him.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overhear, but I was just worried about Tsu-kun’s behaviour this past few days—” Her face is full of compassion. “You must have been terribly hurt by your ex. You don’t look like you’ve been taking care of yourself, Isogai-san… Are you okay…?”

No, obviously he isn’t.

Kazuma flinches at his own thought, curling in on himself.

Pathetic man snapping at a woman offering her kindness. This is why his exes all left him, for sure.

“That… was a stupid question to ask, wasn’t it?” Nana’s smile is strained.

Oh. Did he say it aloud?

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that – No, I shouldn’t even be thinking of it in the first place—I’m—” Kazuma flinches at the words that rises to his mouth. It’s an echo of the words his ex has tossed at him. His voice continues, faltering, weak, quivering. “—no good…”

A moment of silence.

Kazuma expects her to ban her son from ever listening to his bemoaning again.

“Issho! No!” Tsunayoshi lifts and slaps his hands down, looking downright affronted. Kazuma flinches at the wide-eyed look he’s given, all teary and worse – accompanied by a well-placed tremble of his lips. God, this is why he wanted to maintain some bushes between them all this time. Why did he submit himself to the full force of The Pout?

Nana giggles.

“That’s right. You shouldn’t put yourself down. You’re a much more handsome man than you think, especially once you take better care of yourself.” He doubts it. Is he really…? “For starters, why don’t you come over once you’ve tidied yourself up? I would love to give you some tips on dating over dinner.” She giggles demurely and Tsunayoshi looks back and forth between them like he’s watching a match.

“B-But—” He has no reason, really.

“Issho!” Tsunayoshi squeals, delightedly throwing himself forward to squeeze through the bushes.

Kazuma decides he’ll be damned if he refuses the boy who’s been listening to him for a whole year, especially right in front of his mother. (He swears the boy’s planning it though. That’s an awful time to choose to be affectionate.)

“I-I’m leaving myself in your capable hands.” He dips his head in a bow.

“Oh, please don’t…! I should be the one thanking you for playing with Tsu-kun all this time…! And here I thought Issho was an imaginary friend.” She giggles.

…They’ve been doing this for a year already… right?

Kazuma looks down at the toddler in his hands and he sees that same exasperated look. He decides it’s a Sawada Nana thing to be oblivious and ups his frequency of correspondence with Tsunayoshi beyond the usual heartbreak sessions. (It’s nice, he discovers, to know the Sawada family who lives beyond the bushes next to him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kazuma is loosely based on Kannonzaka Doppo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namimori and the flame sealing incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Japan and North Italy from Hetalia, in case anyone is interested. They'll be relevant this chapter.

VI.

Tsuna knows the exact moment Iemitsu flies within Namimori’s airspace.

Japan is already off on his way to welcome their other visitor with his larger range.

“Kaa-san!” Tsuna exclaims in delight, hobbling forward to throw himself on her legs.

“My, my… What’s all the excitement about, Tsu-kun?” Nana smiles with her eyes closed.

He beams and doesn’t answer, but he knows it’ll come to her eventually.

Iemitsu returns an hour later, throwing the doors open and boisterous laughter booming.

Tsuna beams like Takuya did when the batch of Italians first said they want to gain Namimori residency. He smiles wide when Nana absolutely lights up, throwing herself onto a laughing father’s well-muscled arm. Tsuna opens his mouth to let out gleeful laughs, soft and bubbling. He likes it when Nana is happy. Finally, Iemitsu is back…!

And he falters, large eyes blinking curiously, at the old man strumming with power beside his father.

.

VII.

Timoteo sees it the moment he looks into those eyes.

He sees the brown of the soil he'd stepped on, hears the sonorous chimes of a distant bell beating high up in a shrine which overlooks the city. His heart races as blood pours through his veins in memory of noisy clamour of festivals. His head spun as history sunk in through his nerves, bleeding in scenes of samurai which banded in a small fishing village; which faded to allow the suited men who arrived in troupes; then to seemingly idyllic days spent looking over a town ever increasingly peaceful with an almost paternal smile. Timoteo's disorientated when he's dropped back into his body, vision blurry as he focuses on the brown haired child before him. He hears the fine grains of a chef polishing his blade. He senses the town peering in on him.

“I’m on my way to see my friend, ve~~~”

North Italy had sung as he kicked his legs childishly on his airplane seat. His eyes glowed with that same look, which had sent Timoteo tunneling down to a place where the underground world whispers and gun shots echo through the gentle snoozing and rambunctious partying and every relaxed, laughter-filled conversation shouldering through.

Italy had leaned in, eyes bright as he laughed, innocence ringing in every vibration of his voice.

“His name is Japan, the land of the rising sun! I’ve got to talk to Japan, because there’s something involving our two futures!” He winked. “Something too private to tell even you, Nono~!”

This can’t be Japan.

He doesn’t have the features of the majority of the Japanese.

Then…

“What’s wrong? Boss?” Iemitsu turns to look back at him, cheery grin still spread goofily over his face.

The boy remains staring at him with large curious eyes, blinking up at him as if he’s never seen him. Then, recognition fills them. Sawada Tsunayoshi – no, _Namimori_ – smiles shyly and toddles up to him with tiny feet, stopping just short of a couple metres.

“Hello…” Namimori nods at him in acknowledgement of the blood in his veins.

Timoteo wonders what exactly Iemitsu had fathered; if Namimori is the first marked sign of the tragedy that might land upon his sons. (Something involving both Japan and Italy’s underground future… He’s got to see if there’s more connection between Japan and Italy. Namimori can’t be right, even if he’s Iemitsu’s son and Primo’s descendent—)

“Konnichiwa, Tsunayoshi-kun.” He murmurs in accented Japanese, knowing he can’t afford to offend this tiny anthropomorphic personification. “I am Timoteo.”

The boy breaks into a large smile.

Timoteo ends up sealing the personification anyways when the first sign of flames show itself on the boy’s forehead. Because – what if Namimori’s activated ability is a sign of the town’s future? What if the people here grow strong enough to topple Vongola? What if Tsunayoshi himself is something more than just a personification, born as an extension of Namimori to take over the foreign Vongola? There’s no way in hell Timoteo’s letting a threat run free, even at the cost of his own life.

“Nono, you know I like you, right~?” Italy is smiling as whimsically as ever when he flounces back to their helicopter.

“I am well aware of that.” He replies evenly. An unreadable smile he'd learnt from his mother comes across his face. “Is there a reason for reminding me of that?”

“No, no, not at all, ve~”

Except Italy’s jabbing a sharp object into the front of his heart in the next instance, skilfully covering it up as an affectionate hug.

“Japan was suuuper scary, you know? Clumsy me couldn’t bear to stand up against him, ve~~~!” Italy whimpers into his ear, still metaphorically tearing open the wound by digging the top of whatever sharp object it is into Timoteo’s chest.

“…What is the meaning of this?” Timoteo questions, dangerously still.

“What?” Italy tilts his head, eyes still closed. He releases Timoteo to reveal a Tokyo Tower imitation, its sharp tip now angled away from where it’d been previously ready to dig in. Italy laughs in his soft pushover tone, patting Timoteo’s shoulder amicably. “It’s just a souvenir! No need to be so tense now, Vongola Nono~!” Full title, for the first time. “Were you lonely being off with Iemitsu? I bet you were! Ve~~~ I’m definitely not leaving you until we get back to Italy!”

_Watch your back, Nono. You’ve touched something you shouldn’t have._

Timoteo warily accepts the gift, watching North Italy cover up his emotions with a bright smile. The sound of cannons bombard his ears. North Italy briefly looks back and flashes a smile belying the secrets his eyes whisper. Timoteo breathes and barely avoids suffocating at the feeling of  _vongolas_ , buried deep under sea, crumbling away under none-too-gentle brushes of sea pressure. He's one of those seashells in that sea.

“Whatever you want, Italy.” He treads carefully. Vongola will forever be at the mercy of their country.

“Ohhhh oh~! Then, I want pasta. And more sphaghetti! And more pasta, again!”

(And so, Tsunayoshi remains a threat to Vongola.)

.

VIII.

Empty. Cold. Alone.

Suddenly, Tsuna is one rather than the population of Namimori.

Alone. Too quiet. Breathe. 

_Breathe._

Human. He is... human?

Tsuna is... Namimori?

“Tsunayoshi.” Calls out a voice when Iemitsu and that strange man are gone.

_He should recognize that voice. He should know who it belongs to._

But when he looks up from where he’s sitting at the lawn to see wiry rusty locks and brown eyes within the crack of the fence, Tsuna can’t remember a single thing about him. _He doesn’t feel un-alone yet._ Tsuna still doesn’t feel like he’s not dying as he’s living. He still can’t feel a single presence within him, where hundreds had been lifting their voices to create a warm cacophony that's life itself. He can't feel a single one of those phantom hands pushing him forward. And it’s so… _It’s so unbearably cold._

“Tsunayoshi. Is there something wrong?” Isogai Kazuma peers worriedly at him.

Tsuna drops his gaze upon him.

_Who are you?_

That’s the last thing he thinks before he’s collapsing, body overheated as Namimori tears itself away from him.

.

IX.

Japan senses rather than he sees it – the death of one of his town incarnations.

Italy doesn’t feel it, but he stiffens when Japan falls silent abruptly, eyes growing wide in the middle of a conversation.

“Japan…?” Italy tilts his head.

Japan can’t rush back to Namimori fast enough with Italy.

.

X.

“—I’ve taken off the seal. He should be okay now, ve~”

“Let’s hope he is, for Sawada Iemitsu’s sake.” Comes a deep voice whispering so smoothly, one wouldn’t have thought it to be a threat.

“Ve~~~ I’m sorry, Japan… I didn’t expect this when I came with them.”

“You wouldn’t have known, Italy-kun.” A gentle forgiveness.

Tsuna rouses to the sound of two men talking in the background, voices he immediately puts with _Japan_ and _Italy_. Why is Italy here…?

Brown eyes snap wide open, body lurching upwards as memories hit him. Tsuna’s hand absently wanders over to his chest. He gasps, breathless, as the emotion wells up at the back of his throat and he has to work to push down the urge to retch. Tsuna can’t believe the men he welcomed almost killed him. And in that instance, as he takes in his first breath, he feels the warmth that has flared back to life in the centre of his chest, flickering and throbbing with the everything that’s Namimori.

Tears well up in brown eyes.

Tsuna shudders as he closes them and shrinks in on himself, just glad that Namimori hasn’t been torn away from him.

Afterall...Tsuna has been Namimori since he was born, and he doesn’t know how to be anyone except Namimori.

“Namimori-kun.” Japan steps forward.

Tsuna blinks away tears and looks up at Japan.

“Japan…” Tsuna throws himself into his startled arms, sniffling when gentle hands hesitantly trail down the back of his head. “Tsuna was scared… Tsuna was so scared…!” He bawls, hugging tighter as if he could become a part of Japan if he does it tight enough.

Japan pursues his lips. Italy sees the tightening of the edges of his eyes.

“It’s okay now.” Japan tightens his grip on his town. “You’re still Namimori-kun.” His tone is gentle. “You haven’t lost a single resident.”

Italy tiptoes forward, bending to blink down at the crying child.

Ve~ He wonders when Namimori will reach for him~

Japan pulls Namimori further into his hug, and Italy freezes at the fiercely protective look he’s shot.

“Regardless of his ancestry and future path,” Japan had said, wrapping a palm around a coffee mug back at the café. “Sawada Tsunayoshi is Japanese, and he will always stay that way.” That’s a very subtle way of saying Namimori will always be his, but Italy doesn’t point it out. Nii-chan would ask him to fight harder after all!

“But what if Tsunayoshi wants to come over to Italy?” Italy cocks his head, a still goofy smile plastered on his face. “What will you do in that case, Japan?”

Japan levels a disquieting look at him.

“I’ll support him the whole way.”

Italy stills, startled, at that.

“Namimori is Japanese, and it doesn’t matter if I have to share him with you in the future.” Japan’s lips twitch into a smile he rarely shows countries. “That Tsunayoshi-kun is born a halfling and signifies the direction Namimori is taking is of inconsequence to me. You’ll eventually understand why, when you’ve come to live as long as I did in Namimori.”

Italy had peered at him through squinted eyes, perplexed for a long time after that.

(No country should hold any town with such openness.)

“Don’t be so stiff, Japan~!” Italy cheers back in the present, patting his shoulder lightly. “What can clumsy useless Italy do to hurt Namimori~?” It’s a tacit promise that he wouldn’t put a scratch on the small town of his own violation.

Japan relaxes marginally at his words. (Italy will have to do something about Iemitsu and Timoteo when he gets back.)

“Mmmfph… Italy…?” Tsuna shyly looks up from where he’s buried in Japan’s clothes. The small town must sense their unique bond too, by the way brown eyes are an equal mix of curiosity and wariness. “Why are you…?”

“Ve~~~” Italy throws his arms around the small boy. Tsuna flinches. “I’m sorry for what Iemitsu and Timoteo did just now~! I totally didn’t know they would do that!”

“I…It’s fine…” Namimori is quiet. He’s so adorable, shy around strangers like that. “More importantly… Are you…?” Brown eyes glint with realization. (Finally, his bloodline makes sense to him.)

Italy smiles. He takes one tiny hand up with his own, shaking it gingerly.

“I haven’t introduced myself, have I~~~? I am Italy! North Italy, Feliciano Vargas! It’s nice to meet you, Sir!” Italy salutes. It makes the small town burst out in giggles. He sees Japan’s agitation ebbing out from the lines of his shoulders.

“Nice to meet you, Italy.” Namimori gives a smile to him. And in that moment, as bells chime in his ears and sunshine rains over him like rainbow sprinkles does cake, Italy’s eyes open and he thinks he sees why Japan likes this town so much. Warmth envelops him as Namimori giggles and bounces, even seated in his bed. “I am Namimori…uh…Sawada Tsunayoshi. I am three! Welcome to Namimori~!”

(Italy resolves to protect this town from a life steep in mafia.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happened because you guys take my story far too seriously.  
> Nothing as grand as what you guys are imagining will happen. I won't write a 50+ chaptered fic. Hell, I probably won't make it to 10.  
> I do want to write Tsuna's guardians though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Namimori and her protectors.

XI.

Namimori is peaceful.

Namimori is bright.

But still, as a land rich in history, many are the times where Tsuna lays eyes on his town and sees the shadows of what it had once been - and still is today.

For example: Tsuna can count the number of times old man Yamazaki from the tea shop snorted a gruff “I told you so” to many a customer who brewed his precious tea leaves the wrong way. That is an unchanging relic through the times, a habit, passed down by Yamazaki’s father to him and even then, _his_ father to him.

In another instance, even though Kanzaki Michiko has aged gracefully, growing laughter lines and gentle crinkles on her radiant eyes, Tsuna can still recall from the memories of his previous, _previous_ incarnation – Mamoru Kotaro – how she had been the prettiest girl in town back in the day. Smooth silky hair spun from fine threads and all.

Or take another case in point: Even though it’s been centuries since one white-haired man going by the name of Kawahira slipped into his land and enthralled him with a long, amusing game of hide-and-seek, Tsuna can still recall vividly every path and turn and corner that must be taken in a map chucked full of possible hiding spots.

“Kawahira-san!” Tsuna cries with hands clapping in delight as he stumbles at the front door.

Kawahira wears an exasperated smile, melancholic at its edges.

“I see you’ve found me again.” He sighs.

Tsuna doesn’t point out how they’ve played this game over and over again.

Instead, he beams and he steps forward to receive his hug.

.

XII.

_“Wrong room.” Chimes the white haired entity, his look of shock melting into a Cheshire grin, steam wafting up from the tea he’d been having._

_“Oops. Sorry!” Takahashi Yasuhiro slams the sliding door shut._

_A beat passes before he realizes it’s most definitely_ him _he’s been sensing on his land._

_“Who are you—”_

_The words hadn’t even fully left his lips before Takahashi Yasuhiro is narrowing his eyes at the hollowed out room. It’s abandoned, forlorn. The exact opposite of the homey atmosphere it had been not even a full minute ago._

_“Damn it!” Takahashi races down the lines of shophouses, dodging the crowd to chase after the flickering presence on the edges of his mind. As if taunting him, the man’s flames flicker and die out – mere embers that would be harrowing, if they didn’t return with startling force, licking and mocking and laughing._

At him.

_Dark eyes shine with mirth. The lopsided spreading smirk on his face betray his emotions._

_With a sword thumping against his thighs, the samurai law enforcer tears down the street. He will definitely catch that felon and make him one of his._

.

XIII.

It’s not uncommon for the incarnations of Namimori to seek out the protectors of his hometown to show his appreciation.

What’s decidedly uncommon is the bloodlust of the protector this time round.

“Erm. Uhm.”

Gold-flecked browns flicker down momentarily to the pile of bodies pinned by the nine-year old’s feet. They’re by no means bad boys, Tsuna knows. Just a bit misguided (Hiroshi thought his mother hated him well after her death), and just a bit naughty in the way they derailed lives for everyone else (Okazaki has always been a prankster). But the fault of a child’s upbringing can’t lie with anyone but their parents! Not that any of his Hibari’s had ever listened to reasonings like that.

.

( _“It’s their fault for being weak, isn’t it?” Hibari Kanae tells the aged, weary Kasa Akifumi at age seven, chilling on the top of his roof not unlike a feline. The girl slips down the haggard straw to accept the daifuku from Akifumi’s hands._

 _“This world’s the survival of the fittest, you know?” She licks her thumb._ )

.

( _“Cut the meaningless lecture. You’re far too soft.” Hibari Tsubasa kicks Takahashi Yasuhiro on the ass. The move is enough to destabilize and make him hop on one sandal-clad feet to regain his balance._

_Now, that’s an awfully mean move to do whilst their foe-turned-enemy is still around, isn’t it? Alaude doesn’t stiffen, but instead, watches them in obvious intrigue. That’s not such a negative reaction, except Yasuhiro still yelps when another merciless kick sends him tumbling face-first into the ground. Right before the feet of the bemused golden-haired man he’d been negotiating with moments before._

_“Whatever happened to respecting your elders?” Yasuhiro grumbles into the pebbles on the ground. Tsubasa grinds his feet on his arse._

_“Let’s get home so I can trounce your ass, Old Man.” Yasuhiro hisses when his feet are picked up by Tsubasa and oh Hello! Face meets floor again! The little arrogant minx sends a dismissive look down the clams’ way. “You’ve made a troublesome person your ally this time.”_ )

.

( _“My kid was born just the other day.”_

_“I know. I felt it.” Maehara Takuya stifles a mocking laugh with his hand. “In fact, I was watching when it happened! Eishi-kun, your crying face when you embraced the boy was very heart-warming! That one moment when that tear slid out of your eyes and landed upon the boy’s cheek… My~ That totally brought a squeeze to my heart—”_

_A glimmer of blue-grey is all he receives as a warning before a tonfa is lowered inches away from his kimono-clad shoulder. Dark locks flutter in the slight breeze brought by the movement. Onyx eyes blink down at the weapon, unfazed._

_“What is this?” Takuya cocks his head curiously._

_“…You’re weak, Namimori. Incredibly so.” Hibari Eishi retracts his weapon. “This is the proof of that.”_

_“A sudden insult out of nowhere?” Takuya chuckles. He tucks his arms within the sleeves of his kimono, blinking up beseechingly from under long lashes at the single ‘customer’ he’d closed the shop for. “What’s wrong? Is the tea not to your liking?”_

_“You’re weak, Namimori. And there’s no one who’s more aware of that than you.”_

_Eishi lays out the facts with as much emotion as he’s shown through the years. That is, to say, little to none. Takuya can quietly count the number of things that has managed to crack Eishi’s stoic demeanour on one hand and still have fingers left over. He wonders what point the other is trying to make._

_(Is it finally time for the Hibari’s to come to the realization that Namimori has never given enough to them to deserve their protection? Well… It’s about time too, in Takuya’s humble opinion. Stupidity can’t be an inheritance in any bloodline for that long.)_

_“That’s why,” Eishi marches forward. Greyish blue eyes upfront and always straight to the point. He retracts his weapon. “I’ll raise my son to be the best protector you’ve ever seen, Namimori.”_

_His breath’s stolen. The air grows thin as the memories of how to breathe momentarily slip his grip. Takuya peers at the Hibari with widened onyx, words refusing to come to him. It seems for a moment that Hibari Kanae, Hibari Tsubasa… countless numbers of Hibari’s who’d stayed with him through the years were gazing through the grey-blues of Hibari Eishi. Even though that colour has changed repeatedly through the gradual intermixing of bloodlines._

_Hibari Eishi picks up his teacup. He sips on the tea and pops a daifuku in._

_“This tea’s not bad.” Which means good, in the Hibari’s demented tongue. “It’s worth slaughtering your enemies over, Namimori.”_

_“Is that so?” Takuya had chuckled wryly. Hibari’s are just that stupid, it seems. “I’m counting on you to protect Namimori for me then, Eishi-kun.”_ )

.

Something, Tsuna decides gravely, must have been miscommunicated in that interaction between his predecessor and the Hibari matriarch. Because what he’s seeing now is a demon king of epic proportions, radiating the darkest, thickest miasma of killing intent he has ever felt all his life as Namimori.

Seven-year-old Tsuna gulps, fearing for the lives of his poor boys down below Hibari Kyoya’s feet. (Even if they had indeed bullied him.)

“E-Erm.” The demon lord turns to look at him. Grey eyes narrow into slits. “I-It’s not good to be fighting others when they’re down! Doing that is called bullying!” He somehow manages to stand up for his citizens.

The grey eyes narrow further.

“Hiihh!” Tsuna yelps as he slowly inches back. This has got to be the most dangerous Hibari he’s ever seen!

“They defied the school rules, so they deserve to be beaten up.” Hibari Kyoya flicks blood off his tonfa. A speck of it lands on Tsuna’s cheek.

He eyes the pile of boys with great pity and a quiet looming apology. An idea comes to him then. Maybe if Tsuna can get the demon spawn off of them, the teachers could do something about them…? But Tsuna really doesn’t want to get killed!

“B-But…” Tsuna squeezes his eyes timidly. He twiddles his fingers. “Isn’t killing them… also breaking the school rules?”

Tsuna dares himself to peek up.

Grey orbs don’t narrow this time. Instead, they widen at his daringness, and Tsuna’s convinced he has just seen the deepest darkest edges of hell even though none of his predecessors have ever been there.

“…Herbivore.”

Cries of a flock of crows punctuate the still air that had fallen over the school. In response to his feelings, the world within Namimori shifts, animals bristling and birds tearing off the trees at the disaster of catastrophic proportions sweeping over the city. Tsuna shudders, the same way Namimori quakes just marginally on the seismic scale in that instance. Take a picture, he tells the long departed Maehara Takuya in his mind. It’s all his fault that he’s in this situation. How could that stoic robot raise such a demon king?

In the next instance, Tsuna turns on his feet and begins his dash.

It’s at that same timing that Kyoya pushes himself off the pile of bodies.

Tsuna squeezes brown eyes shut as he pumps all his energy into his legs.

Kyoya lands on his feet and begins his hunt.

A bunch of construction workers are moving across the street.

Tsuna runs past them with eyes still closed.

One worker’s called out by his colleague. He turns around, the heavy steel beam on his shoulder swaying outwards.

Grey eyes widen but Kyoya doesn’t stop himself in time.

There’s a resounding thwack that sends vibration down the metal and lingers with a metallic strum for the next couple of seconds.

Tsuna’s steps falter. He slows to a jog and looks over his shoulder.

Kyoya’s down for the count.

“Uwah!? What did I do?!” The construction worker spins again. Tsuna ducks the attack. The man’s panicking as he looks down at the black haired kid with a bloody nose. “This is… Isn’t this the Hibari’s son?! This is bad… I’m definitely going to die!” The worker exclaims in hopelessness.

Tsuna stares with a slackened jaw for a moment.

He gathers himself a moment later to trod forward and claim Hibari Kyoya as his “friend”. (The construction worker eyes him dubiously, but tearfully.)

Sometimes, the Namimori effect scares even himself.

.

XIV.

“You’re awake.” His father steps into the room, a damp cloth and basin of water in his grip. Blue-grey eyes appraise his face. Father inclines his head. “That was stupid of you.”

“Kh…” That stings his pride, as much as he hates to admit it.

Kyoya pulls himself out of the bed, lips downwards twitching in deep scowl at the throb in his face. Crusted blood blocks his scent of everything when he tries sniffling.

“Where is the herbivore?” He’s the only explanation Kyoya has for returning home.

The smack from his father over the head comes without warning, but at the same time, it’s the usual. Father maintains his usual stoic look as Kyoya hisses and reaches up to cradle the injury.

“He’s gone back. And don’t call him that.”

Kyoya pauses. Even though his father had always ignored his usage of the “herbivore-carnivore” system his Mother taught him, he’d never verbally instructed Kyoya to refrain from labeling anyone like that. Grey eyes peer out at his father suspiciously, all attempts at reading Hibari Eishi’s expressions as usual flying over his head without an ounce of success.

“…In that case… Carnivore?” Kyoya tests wryly. It just doesn’t settle well with him to have that brown fluffy thing be on equal grounds with him though.

Father tilts his head sideways in thought.

“Try again.” He instructs.

Kyoya furrows his brows, resisting the urge to tut. It still comes anyways, and his father smacks him over the head once more. (Kyoya’s used to it. His mother could do way worse with her senbon if she’s not overseas.) Under the mess of dark ravens shielding his eyes away, the tiny mind of a combat genius races to connect the dots.

If that boy’s not an herbivore or a carnivore, then he must be a strain between those two.

“…An omnivore.” Kyoya concludes.

“That’s right.” Father rises to his feet.

That doesn’t make sense in the slightest to Kyoya.

“He’s weak.” Kyoya points out.

“He went against you and lived to tell the tale.” Father replies factually.

“That herbivore… he was getting bullied by the other herbivores.” Kyoya argues.

“But he didn’t receive any injury.” Father points out.

Kyoya freezes, eyes widening. The brown fluff being bullied was a thing that happened out of his sight. Yet... How does Father know about that?

His father is peering down at him with reminiscing blue-grey eyes when Kyoya lifts his head by a fraction. Just a little, the edges of his lips are lifted in the faint smile he’s only ever seen when Father is welcoming Mother back from her trips (and according to Mother, when Kyoya isn’t looking at his father intently). Blue-grey eyes hone back on him in focus. Father reaches out and brusquely ruffles his hair.

“Look. And think before you leap, Kyoya.” He murmurs. Kyoya’s eyes are wide, head remaining where it was pushed to peer at the mess of sheets laid over him. “An unthinking Hibari makes nothing but a foolish combatant. What are you protecting with your life?”

Father leaves with those words, letting Kyoya nurse his own wounds.

Namimori is what he’s protecting, Kyoya answers the question, ripping off the bandaid from his face.

His heart’s still beating fast with adrenaline as he remembers those few days he’d spent watching those herbivores chase down the brown fluff. That brown fluff had somehow managed to evade them every time without a single scratch, each time by some odd coincidence or just by ducking into hidden crook and crannies of the town. This time was just the same.

Namimori, Kyoya concludes solemnly, looking at his own reflection in the mirror, might be trying to protect that brown fluff.

.

XV.

Tsuna wonders what he has done wrong. He hasn’t broken any rules, right?

“Sawada Tsunayoshi.” Hibari Kyoya appears around the corner of his street one day.

“Hiihh-!” Tsuna cries out and races away from him.

“Omnivore.” Hibari Kyoya leaps after him with tonfas flying the next.

“Hyah!” Tsuna ducks. A trash bag comes flying out of a passing truck in that moment, hitting the catapulting raven and shooting him down to the ground. “Why—”

“Today, I’m not letting you go.” Hibari Kyoya breathes wrath as he corners Tsuna at a dead end.

“-are you—” Tsuna crawls his way through a coincidental hole in the fence and races out in time to catch a police officer on patrol.

“Fight me!” Hibari Kyoya hisses, hauling Tsuna into an empty classroom during assembly.

“—after me?!” Tsuna leaps out of the window and gets cushioned by the trees. He manages to return back to assembly on time, if only a bit dishevelled and shuddering cold under the dark daggers burnt into him from the prefects’ corner.

Maehara Takuya, he decides glumly, must be laughing at them somewhere from the heaven. It certainly doesn’t help that Hibari Eishi had given him that blank nod that doesn’t give away a bit on whether he truly got it or not. Tsuna seriously won’t be able to tolerate it if any future Hibari babies are all crazed versions of Hibari Kyoya! Namimori will tumble and fall on its knees!

He’s sitting on the rooftop, sipping on strawberry milk and hoping no delinquent will find their way to him one day when the silhouette of Hibari Kyoya looms over his back.

Tsuna feels the prickle of fear stinging his skin, even if he knows no citizen of Namimori can truly do harm upon him. He turns to peer over his shoulder meekly, and the thunderous grey eyes boring down at him judgingly with what could possibly be the most disgruntled, composed scowl makes him shriek with alarm. Tsuna hurriedly scrambles back across the roof, flailing arms wrapping around himself.

“H-H-H-H-Hibari-san! What can I do for you-?!” He cries.

The judgemental look in those grey eyes haven’t ameliorated in the slightest.

Kyoya stalks forward to him.

“You…are… Namimori.”

Eh.

Brown eyes bulge and he slips over thin air.

EH?!

The steps come to a stop, the terrifying nine-year-old looming over him.

“You are Namimori. The town I’m supposed to protect. And you’re pathetic.”

Tsuna shivers uncontrollably as he hugs himself. E-Eh…? Since when did everything become so cold around him?

“C-Calm down, Hibari-san! I-I know I’m weak and all, but… I’ve been receiving training from Italy for a while now to control my flames! …kay?” Is that good enough for him?

“Stand up.” Kyoya orders.

“Eh?!”

“You’re going to learn to fight.” Tonfas slide out of Kyoya’s jacket. A bloodthirsty curl of his lips makes Tsuna gulp at the impending threat to his life. “As the personification of my town, it won’t do for you to be weak. I’m having you train to protect yourself, _Sawada Tsunayoshi._ ” He hisses.

Beads of sweat explode all around Tsuna’s head. He can only swallow heavily with a meek, wobbly smile on his lips as the shadows close in around him.

Hibari Kyoya takes a step forward.

Tsuna shrieks as Kyoya leaps at him.

(That’s how he spends most of his following days, racing away from a bloodthirsty protector.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do drop me a comment/kudos to let me know if you liked this! And let's hope my next update isn't in another half a year... or that it exists at all. Sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not continue.  
> Do leave something (subscribe/bookmark/kudos/comment, anything) to indicate your interest. I don't deal well with silence on my stories ( ~~hence the anonymous tag~~ )


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